


Burns

by WednesdayTheWriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Burns, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Forehead Kisses, Hastur Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Healing, Holy Water (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, I really tortured poor Crowley in this one, Other, Whump, at least he’s got his angel to help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayTheWriter/pseuds/WednesdayTheWriter
Summary: Demons didn’t give up easily. Yes, there were the ones like Beelzebub, who simple couldn’t be concerned with getting revenge on a lowly demon like Crowley. But then, of course, there were the ones like Hastur. Hastur wasn’t afraid of Crowley. He had been, for what felt like a split second but was probably closer to a few hours in human terms, but he wasn’t anymore. He just wanted to see Crowley hurt, no matter the cost.In other words: Crowley gets attacked by Hastur and Aziraphale is there to save him. Much comfort/fluff ensues.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 38





	Burns

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This work contains descriptions of burns and mentions of torture! Please skip this one if that bothers you. <3

Demons didn’t give up easily. Yes, there were the ones like Beelzebub, who simple couldn’t be concerned with getting revenge on a lowly demon like Crowley. But then, of course, there were the ones like Hastur. Hastur wasn’t afraid of Crowley. He had been, for what felt like a split second but was probably closer to a few hours in human terms, but he wasn’t anymore. He just wanted to see Crowley hurt, no matter the cost. 

So, he thought, as he switched on the lights in Crowley’s flat, this should be easy.

Crowley woke up feeling a pounding pain in his head. He tried to sit up, then realized he was already sitting. He slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was in a garage of some sort, and he was tied to a chair. He struggled against the ropes that were binding him, trying to get free using strength instead of demonic powers. Just as he was about to give up on his human body and resort to simply making the ropes disappear, he heard a voice from behind him. 

“Nuh-uh-uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,”

“Hastur,” Crowley growled. 

“That’s me,” said Hastur, walking around to the front of the garage so Crowley could see him. “Now. I thought about making this quick and painless, but...” he twisted his face into a horrible grin as he picked up a pair of gloves that were sitting in the corner of the room. “That wouldn’t be any fun, now, would it?” 

Crowley didn’t need to ask what the gloves were for. He already knew. 

“What are you going to do, kill me?” 

“Of course I am!” said Hastur. “But I’m going to torture you first, obviously.”

“Oh, fun,” said Crowley sarcastically.

“Indeed,” said Hastur. He picked up a wet washcloth that had been lying next to the gloves, dangling it in front of Crowley’s face. “It’s diluted,” he said. “No need to worry, just a little sting. Oh, and your angel friend can’t rescue you. I got him too.”

Before Crowley could say anything in response, Hastur pressed the washcloth against the side of his face. Crowley had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming as pain pierced through his body, the water dripping down his neck and onto his shoulders. 

Hastur took the cloth away, grinning. “Like I said- just a little sting.”

——————

Aziraphale, who had not, in fact, been caught by Hastur, was reading in his bookshop, just like on any other Sunday. He flipped the page, adjusting his reading glasses. Birds chirped outside as he sipped his cup of hot cocoa. Suddenly, he felt his stomach drop. Something was wrong. No, no. That was ridiculous. He shook his head and continued reading, but the feeling didn’t go away. Crowley. Something’s wrong with Crowley. He sighed, putting his book down. Nothing’s wrong with Crowley, he thought. Don’t be ridiculous. But the feeling only grew stronger. 

Aziraphale shut his book, stood up, put on his coat, and hurried out the door. 

——————

Screams echoed through the garage as Hastur tied the cloth around Crowley’s head, laughing. 

“I have more, you know,” he said. He turned around, picking up a bucket of what Crowley had thought was just water, but now he knew that it was anything but regular water. Hastur flicked it from the bucket, and Crowley winced as it burned his skin. Hastur had been right- it was diluted, it was just definitely more than a “little sting.” 

“Wh...what did you do with Aziraphale...?” Crowley sputtered.

Hastur laughed again, holding the bucket of water over Crowley’s head. 

“CROWLEY!” a voice shouted from outside the garage. Hastur tipped the bucket over, seemingly oblivious. The last thing Crowley saw before his vision went out completely was a familiar figure leaping on top of Hastur, tackling him to the ground.

——————

“Gh...” 

Pain. All he could feel was pain. It was like falling all over again. He felt something drip down the side of his face, but he couldn’t open his eyes. All of a sudden, he felt something cold being pressed against his cheek, and his eyes slowly opened. As the room came into focus, the first thing he noticed was Aziraphale. His eyes were slightly red, as though he’d been crying, and he was leaning over Crowley, holding a cloth against his face.

“Nggghhhh... Angel...” Crowley wanted to ask where he was, make sure Aziraphale hadn’t been hurt. But he couldn’t gather the strength to say anything else.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried out, grasping Crowley’s hand. Crowley slowly sat up, trying to push himself up using his other hand but quickly stopping as pain shot through his palm. “Oh, Crowley...” said Aziraphale, throwing his arms around the demon. Crowley shuddered as the memories of what happened came flooding back. He looked down at his hands as Aziraphale held him, blinking back tears of pain. His hands and arms were covered in blisters and red hot burns, and everything hurt. He was still wearing the same clothes he’d been when Hastur had attacked, but it was dark outside, meaning it had been a few hours at the very least. 

“What... what happened?” croaked Crowley. “How did you find me?”

“Y...your phone... you still had your phone on you, so I tracked your location using mine...”

“H...how did you manage that?”

“I don’t know... I was so worried, I just knew something was wrong. I don’t really remember exactly what happened...” said Aziraphale, sitting back up in his chair. Crowley realized that he was sitting on the couch in the back room of the bookshop, which was lit by a few lamps and a small overhead light. “I, uh... I knocked out Hastur...” said Aziraphale. 

“You... you did?!”

“Yeah... I don’t know what came over me. One moment I was looking at you, the next, he was on the ground. I don’t think he’ll be coming for you for a while.”

“Did he... did he see you?” asked Crowley, his breath catching in his throat.

“No,” said Aziraphale, “he’s probably discorporated by now. There was quite a bit of blood, and...” he looked at Crowley, as though he’d forgotten for a moment that he was injured. “Oh, Crowley...”

“‘S alright. Doesn’t hurt too bad,” he said.

“Of course it does, you were screaming.” 

“...Oh. You, er... you heard that?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale. “I had to stop several of the neighbors of whoever that house belonged to from calling the police.”

“...Ah.” 

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter now, you’re hurt because I was too late and oh, Crowley, I’m so sorry...”

“I... it’s alright. I’ll go home, take care of the burns there. I’m fine, Angel,” said Crowley, grimacing as he shifted positions on the couch. 

“Nonsense,” said Aziraphale. “You will stay right here while I get another washcloth.” He quickly got up and walked out of the room, throwing a glance back at Crowley to make sure he didn’t leave.

Crowley didn’t bother calling after him- he wasn’t going to change his mind. Instead, he took out his phone and used his camera as a mirror. He winced as his reflection stared back at him. His face was covered in burns, red and irritated. He knew they wouldn’t leave scars- holy water didn’t do that. That didn’t make it hurt any less, though. He put his phone down, unwilling to look at the burns any longer. After a moment, the door opened and Aziraphale came bustling in, holding a wet cloth. He sat back down on the chair, looking at Crowley sympathetically. 

“This might sting a bit,” he said, taking Crowley’s hand in his own. He gently pressed the cloth against it, and Crowley winced as the cool water fought the burning sensation in his hand. Aziraphale gently held it there for a moment, then moved on to Crowley’s other hand. 

“I’m sorry,” said Aziraphale as Crowley grimaced again. “I know it hurts, but we need to keep them from getting infected.”

Crowley nodded silently as Aziraphale moved on to his face, gently blotting the cloth against his burnt skin. 

“You aren’t hurt, right?” asked Crowley quietly as Aziraphale wrapped the cloth around his neck.

“Don’t be silly,” said Aziraphale. “I’m not hurt, and even if I was, it’s you we need to worry about.”

Crowley sighed. “You weren’t too late.”

“But you’re injured,” protested Aziraphale.

“And alive. Injured and alive. Better than injured and dead, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well... yeah, but...”

“It’s alright, Angel,” said Crowley, his sarcastic tone fading away.

Aziraphale sighed. “Alright. Here, I can’t miracle away any of the burns since they were made by holy water, but I can at least heal your head where he hit you.”

Crowley’s head throbbed, seemingly in response to what Aziraphale said. He’d been so preoccupied with the pain of the burns that he hadn’t even noticed the pain from where Hastur had hit him. Aziraphale gently touched the back of Crowley’s head, and pain shot through his scalp.

“Oh dear...” said Aziraphale. “He really hit you, didn’t he?” 

“Gh- yeah...” said Crowley, wincing as Aziraphale brushed his hair out of the way so he could examine his head further. A warm, glowing sensation filled his head, and after a moment, it stopped aching. 

“There you go,” said Aziraphale. “That should at least help a bit.”

“Yeah,” said Crowley. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now, the water seems to mostly have hit your head and your hands, since the rest of your body was covered. I’ve already cleaned most of the burns up, but I’m not really sure what else to do.”

“Ngghh... Do you have any alcohol...?” 

“You need rest, not alcohol,” said Aziraphale firmly. 

“I’m not sleeping any time soon. ‘Sides, I was out for a while already, wasn’t I?”

“...Yeah. Three days, to be precise.”

“What?! I thought it had only been a few hours...!”

“No, three days. I was... I was starting to worry that you wouldn’t...” he trailed off.

“Oh, Lord have mercy...” said Crowley as tears began forming in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Listen.” He shifted positions, wincing as his hand gave a pang of discomfort. “Look at me.” Aziraphale turned to face Crowley, wiping his eyes. “I’m not going to leave you that easily, alright?”

Aziraphale sniffled, smiling slightly despite the tears. “I know.” He took Crowley’s hand in his own, taking a breath before speaking again. “I’m going to bandage your hands up now, alright?” 

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale quickly miracled up a roll of bandages and began wrapping them gently around Crowley’s hand. 

“Thanks,” said Crowley, wincing as Aziraphale touched an especially burnt spot. 

Crowley reached up and touched the back of his head where Hastur had hit him. The bruise was completely gone, leaving only burns where it had been. He closed his eyes as Aziraphale finished, leaning back on the couch. 

“Are you alright?” asked Aziraphale softly. 

“Yeah,” said Crowley.

“Here, look at me,” said Aziraphale, gently cupping Crowley’s cheek in his hand. He simply looked at Crowley for a moment, lost in his bright yellow eyes. Then he leaned forward, gently kissing Crowley’s cheek. 

“Gh...” Crowley startled, and the angel leaned back. 

“Sorry,” said Aziraphale quickly.

“No, no... just surprised me, that’s all,” said Crowley, his cheeks turning pink. Aziraphale smiled slightly and leaned forward again, kissing Crowley’s forehead this time. 

“Ngk...” Crowley startled again, but a small smile was forming on his face. He had wanted for so long to be able to feel love for Aziraphale without having to worry about the consequences. He could finally just be there with him, without worrying that he would be caught. 

Aziraphale reached out and placed his hand lightly on Crowley’s head. Crowley closed his eyes as Aziraphale stroked his hair, feeling Aziraphale’s presence surround him like a warm hug. Aziraphale stood up and sat back down on the couch next to Crowley, putting his arm around him. 

“Ghngggh...” mumbled Crowley.

“It’s alright, Crowley. You can rest, I’m right here,” said Aziraphale. 

Crowley slid sideways until he was leaning against Aziraphale, closing his eyes. Aziraphale rested his head against Crowley’s, closing his eyes too. 

It had been a long time since Crowley had felt this safe. There was always the nagging feeling that someone would find out, that it would all go wrong. But wrapped in the arms of his angel, listening to the late night sounds through the windows, safety was all he could feel.


End file.
